Heat
by GarnetQueen
Summary: She hadn't noticed it, not really...until they began to call her the Red Queen. Older!Anna x Mikoto
1. Chapter 1

**Heat**

**Summary**: She hadn't noticed it, not really…until they began to call her the Red Queen. Older!AnnaxMikoto

**A/N (Kind of important)**: From what I can tell from the anime, Anna cannot _clearly_ see Mikoto. For the sake of this fic, she _can _so long as her marbles are on her person, yes? I'm taking a lot of creative liberties with this fic so...don't hurt me please. There also won't be a lot of dialogue, sorry if that's your thing.

**-HOMRA-**

It had been slow in coming. Neither of them thought very much of it when Anna began to press herself into his side, small hands wrapping around his arm. He was warm – the _only _warm place, and so he let her come nearer than the other clansmen.

Anna didn't think very much of it either, when he smiled the tiniest of smiles for her; when he lifted her in his arms with utmost gentleness before a fall; when he began to leave his left hand out of his pocket, because he knew she would take it sooner or later.

Some days she would wake and find herself curled up so near to him it scared her. When he was gone, traces of cigarette smoke and burnt wood and cinnamon would be on her clothes, on her breath, and in her hair.

She imagined the little thrill that ran up her spine when his heat washed over her was just relief; her body's reaction to the cold being banished. The affection that settled in her heart the longer she looked upon him was that of friendship. Anna thought his red was the prettiest because he was her _King_ – that was all.

It was _slow... _and maybe that's why she didn't notice it.

The first time he'd brushed his knuckles across her cheek, she had smiled at the familiar warmth that rushed to her core. It was only the look in his amber eyes that made her think twice about what it really meant.

Mikoto's eyes always bore a certain heat. Whether it was anger, irritation, even _contentment_, every Red Clansmen was familiar with Mikoto's hard stares.

This time he stared down at her and his eyes held a raw _burning _that made her feel she was standing at the center of an inferno. He leaned fowards a mere fraction of an inch. A shallow, musky breath wafted across her lips, and her knees locked. She might have fallen if his grip on her arm hadn't been firm. He'd eased her into a chair, breaking his gaze to stare with deadly intent at the wall behind her head. The lines under his eyes had seemed so much more pronounced…

And then he had left, sweeping out the door not to return until late into the night.

The throbbing between her thighs reminded her it had happened, and it was _not _just because Mikoto was warm. For reasons she could not understand, she had cried that night.

**-HOMRA-**

Weeks passed afterwards in which nothing happened and neither mentioned it. They did not speak often, actually, but did not necessarily need to. Yata and Izumo began to cast sidelong looks at them when she laced her fingers through his. Anna could understand. She was confused too. Her relationship with her King had changed, but she wasn't sure when or how.

When the clock struck midnight and it was officially December 8th, Anna turned 20 years old.

Mikoto did not sing. He never did, for _anyone's _birthday, but he did stand close to her side and offer one of his rare smiles as their clansmen belted out a raucous rendition of 'Happy Birthday.'

There had been cake, and presents, and so many drinks.

Hours later, when the sun was minutes from rising over the tall silver buildings outside, she found herself alone with her King. She couldn't remember how they had got into the staff room at the back of Izumo's bar. For once, things happened _quickly_.

She had been nearly running, she remembered at least, and then she'd tripped a mere few feet from the cream colored sofa. Mikoto had caught her, of course, pulling her upright. She stumbled into his chest. Their gazes locked, and it took only a scant moment for the burning in his eyes to shift into something she didn't know she knew: _desire_.

When his lips had crashed down onto hers and his weight was pressing her into the sofa, she realized she had never known heat like _this_. She had always been open to him, devoted to him, _powerless_ against him; he was her King and she was _loyal _and she _loved_ him and now she was so starkly aware of it it made her cry out.

One large hand was tangled in her hair, the other gripping her side in a way she was _sure _was the roughest he'd ever handled her. His scent was positively overwhelming, his warmth so _hot _now it was nearly blistering.

It was second nature to surrender to him when his tongue ran across her lips, demanding and harsh and _willful_. There was a hunger in his touches, something reckless and untamed and simply _him _in the way he dominated her.

Red flames seemed to be scorching the entire room, licking up and down her body in the most tantalizing ways, dipping into every crevice and inhabiting every corner.

_Heat, power, desire, her _only _warm place…_

She found herself arching against him, clutching at his shirt as her toes curled and her veins filled with fire. A deep, soft sigh she realized came from _him _sent a shock of pleasure up to the top of her head and she shivered despite the heat. His other hand found her hip, her dress was bunched up around her waist, and everything was _red, red, red…_

Anna heard her marbles ping against the wood floor and roll away.

Mikoto's lips snapped away from hers so fast it left her winded. There was something unreadable in his eyes as he took in her disheveled hair, half-lidded eyes, and swollen lips. As he shifted upwards, she became aware of the bulge in his black pants pressed hard against her sex, but her face could flush no more.

She reached for him. _Don't go_, she pleaded silently, _not now_.

"Mikoto…" the whispered word, nearly a prayer, seemed to wake him, and he was gone before she could blink.

He did not return for a week.


	2. Chapter 2

**-HOMRA-**

Mikoto didn't look at her much for a while after that. He didn't leave his hand out of his pocket for her, but he didn't push her away when she tentatively looped her arm through his. There was something strange in his eyes, though he allowed his aura to project no outward emotion. It was making everyone a little edgy.

At dinner, their clansmen were speaking a little quieter than usual, unsure if they would bother their King or not. There was less plate scraping, no yelling, and even less drinking. They didn't say it, but she knew there was a tendril of fear mixed in with the concern. If Mikoto's condition was becoming worse, his Sword of Damocles could come crashing down upon them any second. Most Red Clansmen didn't fear death or pain, but they did fear the day they lost the Red King.

Still, there was speculation as to his foul mood. Anna's name came up, as was expected, but so did Totsuka's. When the name of their fallen clansmen floated through the smoky air of Izumo's bar and reached Mikoto, there was a visible tensing of his shoulders. Suddenly, the emotion he'd been packing away all day flared outwards, even as he stood to leave.

_Guilt_. It clicked in her mind then, watching him shrug on his coat as though he hadn't a care in the world. His pace was still as lazy and sedate as it always was, and he didn't fling open the door or slam it shut, but it was _there._

Guilt. Mikoto was their King, _her _King, and he was responsible for their protection and wellbeing. Most times, it was protection enough for him to just _be _with them.

He hadn't been able to be there for Totsuka, and she knew the vibrant young man had been Mikoto's best friend before the end. Similarly, as it had leaked in his aura, he felt guilty for not being able to protect her from _himself_. His presence had not been enough to safeguard her from his own desires.

She was his clansmen. It was _different_ for them.

But, she had always been different for him, hadn't she?

Hesitantly, Anna slid down from her perch on a barstool. She sent a tiny smile over her shoulder when Yata, Izumo, and Kamamoto made to follow her. It was only the sadness in her eyes that made them stop.

It was snowing outside. Being near Christmastime, the air had a bite to it that she absolutely hated. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly afraid that Mikoto would no longer be a warm place for her. Her shoes tapped loudly against the concrete as she walked, searching for that particular shade of red.

He hadn't gone far. Perhaps he'd known she'd come after him.

The Red King was sitting at the top of the steps leading up to a bank that was already closed. His back was against the wall, one arm resting on a bent knee. He spared her a glance when she approached him.

She took a breath, fighting tears, as a translucent red sphere enveloped them. The snow in her hair melted and dried, and the warmth she'd felt for so many years now cradled her shaking body. The snow that had accumulated on his body melted away too, and it reminded her of simpler times when Mikoto melted the snow for her because she didn't like the way it covered up his red.

Anna had never been particularly bold. She wasn't loud, or violent, or reckless like the rest of her clan. She loved them all, and wouldn't trade them for the world, but had never been the same as them.

Still, she gathered all the courage she had and made herself sit close to him. He looped an arm around her waist, perhaps thinking she was still cold. It didn't matter to her either way; the action still unleashed her tears. She felt his chin brush the top of her head when he turned towards her and the hand at her waist traveled up to cup the back of her head.

He didn't know what to say, she could have guessed that without his aura flickering strangely all around her.

In many ways, Anna had never wanted her relationship with the King to change. Even when she'd come of age, her relationship with him had always been pure. She herself had always been innocent and nearly childlike.

She thought that was the way it would always be.

Now it _wasn't_ the same, and a part of her she didn't understand _wanted _the change. She wanted more nights like the one they shared on her birthday; she wanted to be that close to him, _always_.

The crumbling image of his Sword of Damocles flashed across her mind. _Could _Mikoto be there forever? Maybe that was another facet of his guilt. If Mikoto allowed himself to do what he wanted, he would one day leave her…or kill her.

Fear lanced her heart, and she threw her arms around him. "Don't go," she cried. He stilled for an instant and released a long-suffering sigh. She wasn't offended; he wasn't sighing _at _her. In an odd way, it was more like he was sighing _with_ her.

A strong arm snaked under her knees, the other falling across her back as Mikoto lifted her into his lap. He dropped his head onto hers. For a long time, there was no sound but her hiccuping sobs.

"I never wanted to be a King." She'd heard the admission before, but it took on a different meaning now.

If Mikoto had not been a King, he would never leave.

But because he was, he didn't know if he would be able to stay.

**-HOMRA-**

It was an odd and decidedly horrible feeling that crept over her in the following days. Regardless of what she chose, she knew she would be sacrificing something. And it _had _been left up to her. If she decided she wanted her relationship with her King to continue to change, he would change it.

If she decided she did not want to get that close with all the things that could…_collapse_ between them, he would stay away.

And that was the basics of it. Change her relationship, or _lose _her relationship. They would be King and Clansman, and that would be all. Anna could hardly blame Mikoto for not promising to merely restrain himself if she chose not to accept the change. If his Sword of Damocles was truly a representation of himself, it was a miracle he had showed as much restraint with her as he already had.

She wondered if the strain that put on him was worsening his condition.

In fact, she wondered if either of her decisions would be better for him. Staying with him would mean he didn't have to restrain himself anymore, but a lack of restraint was the problem with his condition currently. If she chose not to, the effects of having her there but just out of reach could be just as disastrous.

It made her sad, and she was _so_ tired of crying.

In the end, lying on the cream colored sofa in the bar's staff room, Anna decided to stay. Telling him her decision the next day had been easy, allowing him to gather her close had been easy, kissing him back had been easy.

It had not been so easy to swallow the bitterness of knowing their relationship was likely the last thing she'd ever be able to give to her King.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Project K

**IMPORTANT:** The only way I could bring myself to continue Heat was to back it up and re-write it. I was terrifically displeased with the way I took the story, as it wasn't the direction I intended to take it. I rushed it, and started throwing anything at it that made the least little bit of sense. So! You may need to re-read it to get the other chapters out of your head. I make absolutely no promises, but let's give this another go, shall we?

**-HOMRA-**

The breeze smelled like the ramen being served in the _yatai _to their right. The streets were packed, though everyone made sure to give HOMRA their space. Further up ahead was a bright glass building commonly known as Fugisawa Inc. They sold every kind of electronic, from phones to music players to microwaves.

And the CEO was their target.

Takeshi Fugisawa was the great-great-grandson of the founder of the corporation. From what his records implied, he was tall, skinny, and a bit on the nervous side. He wore glasses that he meticulously cleaned every 15 minutes. An OCD tick. He was a wreck, buckling under the pressure of inheriting one of the largest retail empires on this side of the world.

An easy target.

Anna's heels tapped lightly on the concrete beneath her. Her hand was tucked into the crook of Mikoto's left arm. She'd chosen a yellow chiffon dress for the day. The red hat that was usually on her head had been abandoned. She had eased in a pair of dangly diamond earrings to substitute. A thin line of eyeliner had been carefully smudged on, and she had practically ran from the room immediately after. She couldn't tell if she was overdoing it.

Anna had been very conscious of her appearance that day, and every day since she and Mikoto had become an item. It unsettled her to know why. Suddenly, she felt she had to look her absolute best for the man beside her. It was worrying, stressful, absolutely _maddening_. Feminine wasn't a word that was unfamiliar to her, but suddenly she wished it was.

She stumbled slightly as her heel got caught in a gap in the sidewalk. Mikoto lifted his arm to keep her from falling on her face, and frowned down at her. Ashes fell from the cigarette in his mouth. "Sorry," Anna mumbled, horrified to feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

Behind them, Izumo and Yata followed quietly. The expression on their faces was quite telling. This was a mission that was of utmost importance.

Word had it that Mr. Fugisawa had recently tangoed with a drug lord. Anna supposed that illegal narcotics were one way to handle the stress.

The drug lord in question had direct ties to the Colorless King. It seemed, quite perversely, that the entire cartel had an interest in the Colorless King's plot.

And that was a very big problem.

The automatic doors slid open soundlessly as the Red King and his entourage strode into the building. It was spacious, the first floor open to the second floor where a gaggle of men and women in suits hustled to and fro. Several flowerless plants were tucked into corners and on desks. It was clean...and it was typical.

The security guards just inside looked...and then looked again. They reached for the bully sticks on their belt without saying a word, but Izumo raised one hand. "We have an appointment, gentlemen."

And it was true. Of course, they hadn't registered for this appointment as "The Angry Red King and His Posse." They had registered under the name of the CEO's step-brother. Their intel had provided they weren't on very good terms, and hadn't met up in 6 years. No one knew what he looked like, so they pulled his records and used his information to set up a 'reunion.'

No one here knew what Mikoto looked like either, fortunately. It was easy enough to fake an ID, and they were let in with surprisingly little hassle. As Izumo and Yata made to follow them, however, the guard held out an arm. "Not you."

Mikoto looked slowly over his shoulder, amber eyes smoldering. For a moment, Anna thought he would blast them across the foyer and through the glass doors. The guard seemed to have that impression as well, as he frowned and reached for his belt again.

But Mikoto just shrugged.

The woman who worked as Takeshi Fugisawa's secretary was a plump, middle-aged woman with a stern expression and bright red lips. Her graying hair was gathered up into a tight bun atop her head, and her pencil had been shoved through it. "No smoking in the building," she snapped, clearly not concerned with decorum. Mikoto regarded her for one long moment, before slowly taking the cigarette from his mouth and handing it to her.

She balked, before her face screwed up. She took it grudingly, holding it between two fingers like it was a cancer. Disappearing into her office, there was a fair deal of grumbling before she returned, sans cigarette. "This way."

She let them through a maze of hallways into a large elevator. Once inside she punched the button to take them to the top floor. No surprises there. A man as insecure as Takeshi needed to put himself above his subordinates in _every _way to feel comfortable.

The top floor was carpeted. Anna's heels wobbled a bit in the thick fabric, and she gripped Mikoto's forearm with her other hand to steady herself. A deep rumbling notified her to his amusement with her situation, and she cursed herself for putting so much effort into her appearance after all.

The secretary stopped in front of a large wooden door, she gave them a short look that demanded they behave themselves, before poking her head inside. "Mr. Fugisawa, your 6 o'clock is here. It's your step-brother and..." She glanced back at them uncertainly, "his girlfriend."

Then she cleared the door and allowed them inside, shutting it firmly behind them.

Takeshi wasn't looking at them when they stepped in. He was bent over his desk, scribbling furiously on some paperwork. "Well, take a seat then, Ryo."

Mikoto didn't move. After another long moment with nothing but the scratching of his pen and the echoing ticking of the large clock in the north-east corner of the room, he looked up.

Immediately he blanched. _So_, Anna thought, _he does recognize us_.

His phone was in cinders long before his trembling fingers reached it. Anna released Mikoto's arm. He left black, smoldering footprints on the beige carpeting as he approached Fugisawa's desk. He leaned over slowly, lazily, with no concern for the certainly-illegal acts he was about to perform. Anna could tell from several paces behind him that Mikoto's eyes were glowing that magnificent red.

For a single moment, she almost pitied the CEO of Fugisawa Inc.

**-HOMRA-**

**A/N:**_ yatai_ are the little Japanese food stands. Dunno if that's canon, but it'll definitely be fanon.

Anyway, I hope no one is _too _disappointed with this sudden change in direction. I wanted to add something more than a bunch of "woe is me Mikoto is suicidal and I'm super special" chapters. So let's try to have an actual plot, yes? And less shitty writing.


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